


Red Snow

by Suphomie



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Captivity, Car Accident, Crying, Disturbing, Fear, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Misery AU, Pain, Psychopath!Theo, Stiles can't walk, Stockholm Syndrome, broken legs, injuries, non-con, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suphomie/pseuds/Suphomie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles takes his eyes off the road for one second to hang up, and that's when everything goes white. Stiles can hardly remembers what even happened. He thinks that his car might've tumbled off of the side of the mountain he was driving off cause he hit something. But really, he can't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Snow

"Sorry I'm late, Scotty, I got held up at work, I'm on my way up," Stiles says When he hears Scotts answering machine, looking at the road ahead of him. Or at least trying to, as the snow is starting to stick to the windshield and he can hardly see shit. "If I can ever make it past all this fucking snow. See you in a bit."

Stiles takes his eyes off the road for one second to hang up, and that's when everything goes white. Stiles can hardly remembers what even happened. He thinks that his car might've tumbled off of the side of the mountain he was driving off cause he hit something. But really, he can't remember.

The next thing he sees is red. His brain does not register this as blood, his own blood to be specific. Everything from there on comes in flashes. He's laying in a car, and he can't move, though he must've hit his head because his brain isn't functioning correctly. 

Next, he's not in the car anymore, he's lying in the fresh snow. There's someone with him, but he can't see them, he can only see white of the snow, and he can slightly make out his jeep, toppled over upside down. Then, he's being moved. By what, he couldn't tell you, but he was being very carefully moved away from the fiery wreck.

Next thing Stiles knows, he's no longer in the snow. He glances around him, but everything's a blurry shape to him, not to mention when he tries to move his head, something around his neck is restraining his movement. Also his head fucking hurts. More than it ever has before, it feels like his brain is trying to escape his skull.

Things go black after that.

The next time Stiles opens his eyes, the pain in his head is dull and he's in a bed. All of him is feeling dull, actually. Like he's on really strong painkillers. Which, he realizes he is on, when he feels an IV in his arm. He glances down at it, movements slow and sluggish. Stiles tries to move his legs to make an attempt to get up, but realizes with slow senses that he can't move them. He can hardly move at all.

Stiles, slow mind working extra hard, examines the room he's in. He's lying in an about full sized bed, in an average sized bedroom with one door, a window, and a single wooden dresser against the wall. He glances down at his legs, but they're covered by blanket.

It takes a few minutes to notice someone else in the room with him. Stiles vision is too blurred to really see their features, but Stiles can at least tell that they have tan skin, and short brown hair. Also, they're pretty bulky, so it's probably a guy. But that's all Stiles can tell about this mystery person.

They're moving around the room, faster than stiles' pained eyes can follow. When he walks up to the bed, he tucks the blankets under Stiles' numb body. Stiles tries to blink his eyes to clear his vision, which only helps a bit. Stiles can make out the guys face now, a little bit. He has blue eyes, and a symmetrical face. He seems to be young, maybe Stiles' age.

"I-I-" stiles tries to speak, but his throat is incredibly dry, and he had to stop midway. 

The guy, laughs affectionately. "Try not to talk so much," he says, voice deep, but friendly, "you haven't had anything to drink in a week."

A week? There's no way that Stiles has been here for a whole week. It feels like just minutes ago he crashed his car, it surely couldn't have been an entire week ago.

The guy reaches over and picks up something off of the bedside table. Then lifts Stiles head up slightly, making Stiles painfully dizzy, and presses something cold against his lips. It's a glass of water, Stiles deducts, when he feels the cold but so refreshing water slide down his scratchy throat. 

The guy pulls it away before he gets nearly enough, and places it back down onto the table. Stiles coughs, as the man gently places his head back onto the pillow. Stiles swallows his spit and asks softly, "w-where am I?"

The guy sits on the edge of the bed, and places a comforting hand on top of Stiles', but stiles can hardly feel it, he's so numb. "You got into a car accident. I took you back to my house 'cause there was a snow storm. You've in and out of consciousness for a week."

Stiles blinks a few times, slow mind taking in the information at a snails pace. He links his dry lips and then asks, "w-what happened-" he glances at his legs, that are covered by th blanket.

The guy looks at him sympathetically. "You broke both of your legs," he says, voice sounding disappointed, "they're wrapped up in casts, but.. We'll see if they'll get better with time, I guess."

Stiles licks his chapped lips. Scotts probably worried sick. Stiles hates when he worries Scott, it happens enough because of Stiles' line of work. He looks back at up at the guy, and says so quietly he's actually surprised his words were even audible, "Scott."

The guy looks a little confused, but stiles quickly explains, "m-my boyfriend. I- he doesn't know where I am, he doesn't-"

"I'll call him once the phone lines get back up, okay?" The guy says reassuringly. Stiles nods, vision going blurry again. This whole entire situation is so surreal, he feels like he's gonna wake up and this will all be a strangely vivid dream. But unfortunately, Stiles does not wake up.

The guy brushes one of his hands through Stiles hair, and says softly, "you get some more rest, okay? Well talk more when you're feeling a little bit better."

Stiles nods, grateful that he doesn't have to use his damaged brain anymore. The guy gives him a warm smile, and starts to walk out of the bedroom. Stiles, though, stops him by asking, "who are you?"

The guy stops in the doorway. "Theo," he says.

Stiles tries to remember the name, and says himself, "I'm Stiles."

Theo smiles. "That's a nice name," he says, charmingly. Stiles watches as he leaves and shuts the door behind him. Then he lays in the bed, in complete and utter silence, wondering what the hell is going on.


End file.
